The Wrath of an Unknown God
by eppie
Summary: There is truly no love for the wicked...except, perhaps, for the love of a sister. Very AU, bookmusical, eventually a crossover with something, but saying more at this point would be a bit of a spoiler.
1. New Life

A/N: A warning from the start—I take great liberties with this story. Very AU, with book and musical components as well as some alterations to various characters. Eventually will be a crossover with…well, you'll see. :) Enjoy!

"She's dead," the midwife said disgustedly, coming out of Melena's room. "And if there truly is an Unknown God," she continued, looking pointedly at Frex, "the thing she spawned will follow suit." With that she left, leaving a shocked Frex and his weeping daughter without any further explanation.

After a moment, Frex entered the room. In less then a moment, he was out again.

"Is she--?" asked the girl hesitantly.

He nodded.

"And the…the baby?"

He shook his head sadly. "Tragically flawed…I should have foreseen this. I should have known…" he trailed off, already lost in one of his infinite ponderings.

"What's the matter with her?"

He blinked, slightly irritated at the interruption. "Don't worry yourself about it. Get some sleep. There will be much to deal with tomorrow."

The girl fought back a resurgence of tears. "But what of the baby?" she insisted weakly.

"Do not question me. Get to bed." With that, Frex walked outside, leaving his eldest daughter standing alone, lost.

She felt cold and wrapped her arms around herself, but that didn't cause her trembling to abate. There was silence now—no more agonized screams from her mother or futile words of comfort from the midwife. The silence seemed interminable to the child—then, suddenly, it was broken by a baby's cry.

The cry was not insistent, but rather tentative, as if the newborn was questioning whether anyone was available to tend to it. The girl hesitated, part of her concerned about her father's anger should she go into the birthing room. Nevertheless, her stomach lurched at the thought that no one was keeping vigil over her dead mother…and, to a lesser extent, at the knowledge that no one was or quite possibly would care for the new baby.

Thus, with some trepidation, the girl opened the door and stepped inside. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dimly moonlit room.

She saw Melena first. The midwife hadn't bothered to cover the dead woman's face with the sheet, and her daughter approached, choking back a sob. Her mother looked peaceful, her features free of the anxiety and frustration that they so often exhibited, emotions resulting from the taxing life that Frex in his religious zealousness had forced onto his wife and daughter. With sudden clarity, the girl realized that her mother was now free from the life she so often seemed to loathe.

The same could not be said for the new life in the room, which reminded the girl of its presence with another soft cry. Taking a deep breath, the girl turned to the basket sitting at her mother's bedside. Unlike Frex, she knew she could not hate the baby for her mother's death, anymore than she could hate her mother for achieving the freedom for which she herself sometimes longed.

The girl knelt down and peered at her tiny sibling. She frowned slightly, unsure of what ghastly deformity had so disturbed the midwife. The child looked normal enough—well-formed and average-sized—and it blinked at her inquisitively, seeming very aware and intelligent for one so unaccustomed to the world.

Not until she held it to the light of the moon did Nessarose realize that, beneath the grime of blood and birth fluid the midwife had failed to towel off before fleeing, the child was green.


	2. Bath time

**A/N: Sorry for the delay...school's busy, so updates may not come as quickly as I'd like, but I appreciate those who are continuing to read. Thanks too for the comments! Please keep reading and reviewing:)**

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To twelve-year-old Nessarose's mild surprise, her father did nothing to prevent her from caring for her new sister. He didn't like it—that he made quite evident—but he didn't stop her.

The infant was well-behaved. She rarely cried and always slept through the night, almost as if she knew that her "mother" was only a child herself, and, as such, was doing the very best she could under rather stressful, unfamiliar circumstances. Though serious, she was a relatively happy baby, and Nessarose found the task of caring for her somewhat easier than she had expected.

Although, of course, there was the matter of bathing her…

Nessarose's first attempt to bathe her baby sister had been a rather terrifying experience for both. She had filled a basin and tested the water to ensure that it was warm, but not too hot. The baby had squirmed slightly as Nessarose lowered her into the bath, but the older girl thought little of it, assuming that perhaps, babies, like cats, had a natural aversion to water. However, as soon as the baby's foot touched the water, this aversion transformed into a pained, terrified howl.

Startled and concerned, Nessarose quickly pulled the infant to her, but the child continued to cry, emitting small, pitiful, gasping sobs.

"Shh…" Nessarose bounced her up and down, trying desperately to calm her while simultaneously attempting to catch the baby's flailing leg in order to examine her foot. Upon doing so, her concern grew—the tiny foot was reddened, raw, and warm to the touch, almost as if the water had been much too hot, after all. Doubting herself, Nessarose dipped her hand into the basin again to reassure herself that the temperature was, in fact, lukewarm at best. It began to dawn on Nessarose that perhaps the problem was the water itself, regardless of the temperature. She hadn't thought that water could do something like that, but, thinking of her green sibling, she mused that supposedly anything was possible.

She moved from the basin to her bed and sat, still cradling the distraught baby and gently drying her foot with the edge of a blanket. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't know. We won't do that again, though, okay? I'll figure something else out. I promise." Listening to the soothing murmurings of her sister, the baby began to calm, her sobs fading into whimpers.

Nessarose settled back against a pillow, a bit worn after the scare. She was always somewhat nervous when handling the infant, not having much experience at doing so, and the episode had left her shaken. She brought her knees up and settled the baby, now calmer than she, against her legs. She let her mind drift, as she tended to do when something had upset her.

"You know, I haven't thought of anything to call you yet," she mused aloud, the baby watching her as if it understood. "They say you should wait until a baby makes itself unique somehow." She hesitated, smiling quietly and a little sadly. "It would have been wrong to name you based on your verdigris, though. That makes itself known."

The little girl fidgeted, and Nessarose held her closer. "Hmm…what about Elphaba, after Saint Aelphaba of the Waterfall? Do you mind terribly the irony?"


End file.
